Chapter 30
Lilian did not have to report to the studio the next morning, which gave us time to mend last night’s hurts. We tossed a picnic basket prepared by the hotel into the rear of a rented car, drove until we found a grassy meadow, and lunched on a blanket spread under the shade of an ancient beech tree. As expected, talk was tight in the beginning, like scattered leaves that lay close to one another without touching. Then, after the last of the wine was drained and I started to repack the lunch basket, Lilian reached for my hand.
“Don’t be afraid that you lost me last night.” She pressed harder to reassure. “I can understand that when it is time to move on, there are never right words to say. And I understand how vulnerable you were when you were wounded.”
With an overwhelming sense of relief, I wrapped my arms around her and we kissed. With lighter hearts, we loaded the car.
She asked as we rumbled away, “What plans do you have, Friedrich?”
“Do you mean now, tonight, or tomorrow?”
“Those times are taken. I was thinking more of next week. Next month. Next year. Do you have enough money not to work?”
“For now I do, but I know I have to get a job. The days of playing piano on a ship are over.”
“So is going back to Kitty’s brothel.”
“The thought never entered my mind.”
“Let’s get one thing straight. Small fibs said in jest are no different than big lies. I see how women make eyes at you. And I see how you appreciate a pretty face. It is perfectly okay to dream about working at Pension Schmidt. But hear me loud and clear: it will remain a dream. Can you live with that?”
“One hundred percent. Now that we’ve settled what I can’t do, let’s talk about what I could do. For starters, I would like a job that’s on the same schedule as yours.”
“Why not consider Victor Janson’s offer to become an actor? You would be a natural.”
“What I said before still stands: I do not want to be in front of the camera.”
“Okay then. There’s behind the camera. But . . . if you’re thinking about directing, there is more to it than yelling, ‘Action,’ ‘Cut,’ ‘Take five,’ and ‘That’s a wrap.’”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to be a cameraman either.”
“Then what are you thinking? You could write screenplays about your experiences in the war. Those sort of movies will be made forever.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of music.”
Lilian’s lips drooped. “If you play the piano in a Kintopp, I’ll never see you. I’ll be working days and you’ll be working nights. That is not being on the same schedule.”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m thinking about composing musical scores for films. From what I see, it’s haphazard at best. The music is uneven from theatre to theatre. No two nights or two places have the same quality of music. I want to write scores that either a soloist or an orchestra can follow. I would standardize what is played.”
Music enhanced a moviegoer’s experience. At its best it was fluid. But often the music was choppy and out of sync with the scenes. Most films included cue sheets that informed the pianist or orchestra when they should play suspenseful music, romantic music, and so forth. In the end it was left to the musician to pick the music. There were no industry standards. Just hit or miss.
Lilian bubbled with enthusiasm. “Birth of a Nation proved that synchronized music enhanced the movie experience. We can work together,” she went on. “Have similar schedules. I like the way you think, Friedrich Richard. I’ll speak to Victor about this. He will love the idea.”
I couldn’t help but smile: Marta Feidt had been forgotten.
*
So my journey to find out more about myself yielded another skillset that enabled me to continue to keep a low profile. Lilian and I went to work together each day. She convinced Victor Janson to let me score his next movie: Girl of Paris. Lilian was not in it so I could concentrate on the score.
“I could get used to this,” Lilian said one early morning after we made love.
“So could I.” It had been weeks since I was last in Munich.
Lilian raised herself on one elbow. “Can I take that as a ‘yes’ that we can play house a while longer? You haven’t mentioned the name Wolf or your party in a long time.”
“I’ve had no reason.”
“Yet I suspect that you would drop what you’re doing the moment he calls. Is that right?”
“Stop, Lilian. He doesn’t belong in bed with us. Look around. Wherever we go these days, Germany continues to grow and prosper. As long as that continues, the Nazis will remain in the background. Oh, for sure, they will run their candidates for the Reichstag, maybe win a few seats, make some noise, but in the end, they will be nothing more than a fringe group. If that’s how it plays out, I will be by your side as long as you want.”
She cupped my face in her hands. “You could be habit forming.”
“That’s my goal.”
Then Lilian turned serious. “If you agree that Germany’s future is rosier than ever, why won’t you swear off that man?”
“There is such a thing as loyalty. We have been friends since 1918.”
“What is there to be loyal to? He’s nothing but a local Bavarian politician with extreme ideas that reasonable people don’t accept.”
I propped myself up on one elbow. “You underestimate Hitler, my love. The man radiates hope. Agreed, on the surface, he’s an ordinary man. And Lord knows, I understand his faults more than most. But when he speaks about Germany and his love of the Fatherland, he is larger than life itself.”
“I don’t know how a girl can compete against that. When he calls, are you going to leave me like you did Marta?”
I pulled Lilian into me. “Nothing would keep me away from you. Not for long. Whatever the reason I might need to go to Munich, know that I will come back to you as fast as possible. I love you, Lilian Harvey. I never said that to Marta or anyone else. You are the first.”
*
As the winter months of 1927 slipped into the warming spring of 1928, my career as a film scorer gained momentum. Lilian was equally busy. When both of us had a free night, we made Max happy performing at the Nightingale. Max wanted to pay us, but we refused. I could never charge Max after all he did for me.
“When you two play, you fill the house. Make this a regular engagement,” he importuned, tossing a generous contract onto the table.
“It’s fun for us, Max,” Lilian said, “but we like our day jobs.” Then she winked. “And we do like some nights alone.”
I could not leave it at that. “Max, if an act doesn’t show up one night and you need us, all you have to do is whistle.”
“I told Kitty you wouldn’t accept, but I had to try. Consider it a standing offer. Change your minds and I will headline you every night.”
*
One April evening, Lilian remained late to shoot a scene. She promised to be back at the Adlon in time for us to dine at Berlin’s oldest restaurant, Zur Letzten Instanz.
I entered the lobby humming a refrain from one of the tunes I had composed for Homecoming, when I heard my name called. It was Wilhelm Frick standing next to a potted plant.
“You’re the last person I expected to see here.” Or wanted to see.
Frick appeared gaunt. “We need to talk.” I gestured toward the salon off the hotel lobby. Frick shook his head. “Too many ears. Is your room empty?”
“It is for now. How long do we need?”
“An hour.”
“Lilian will be home shortly. We have dinner plans. Cut it in half.” A minute later, safe behind my door, I asked, “Why all the mystery, Wilhelm? Why not just call?”
“It’s not that simple. You’re needed back in Munich.”
“Don’t tell me another girl tried to commit suicide?”
“If that was your attempt at humor, it wasn’t funny. This is serious. The Boss fired Emil Maurice back in January. The ungrateful little watchmaker turned around and sued both him and the party for back wages.”
I hadn’t spoken to Emil in some time. “This makes no sense. Adolf agreed to let Emil and Geli get engaged as long as they waited two years to be married.”
“When could anyone trust anything Emil said?”
“Point taken. What did he do this time? How bad was it?”
“Exactly what you would think. Emil opened his pants, Geli welcomed him in, and the boss blew his stack. He fired Emil the moment he found out. Now they are about to fight it out in labor court. It will be an open trial. This has to be squelched like we did the Maria Reiter disaster. Otherwise, the party could go up in flames.”
What was Emil trying to prove?
“How much is Emil owed?”
“He’s demanding three thousand. He’s crazy. He’s owed a few hundred at best.”
“How far has the case gone?”
“It goes in front of a judge the day after tomorrow. Even the blackmail letters didn’t get this far.”
“What’s the status of the Buch investigation?”
“You always go to the heart of it, don’t you? Max Amann got the Reiter girl to sign a document that she and Hitler were only friends . . . that he was like a father to her. Hitler submitted his corroborating statement. Once Judge Buch was informed that Hitler blessed an Emil Maurice-Geli Raubal engagement, the matter of the anonymous letters appeared closed. Alles in ordnung—everything was in order for Buch. That was then.”
“Where are we now?”
Frick threw his hands up. “About to have all the damn dirty laundry aired again, this time in the labor court.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Prevent this court case from destroying the Führer and the party.”
“I’ll try to help, but how can . . .” The door opened, catching me in midsentence.
“Who . . .”
We both jumped to our feet. “Lilian, this is Wilhelm Frick. He’s a member of the Reichstag.”
“And a fellow Nazi, I presume.”
Frick stiffened. “Is that a problem?”
“Should it be? Friedrich is a party member . . . I like him.”
“You make it sound like he’s different than the rest of us.”
“Oh, but he is.” Lilian pecked me on the cheek.
Frick clicked his heels and bowed. “Far be it for me to change a pretty fräulein’s mind.” We shook hands. “I will meet you at the airport for the morning flight.” He bowed again to Lilian. “Sorry to have disturbed you. Please accept my apologies.”
“No offense taken, Herr Frick. But I do wish you hadn’t come here. Friedrich is too busy to break away from his work.”
“You entered just when I was about to explain to Herr Frick that I’m in the middle of scoring a movie.” I turned to Wilhelm. “I can’t leave in the morning. I need to make arrangements to miss a couple of days.”
Lilian’s lips tightened into ribbons of anger. “Friedrich . . .”
My stone-cold gaze froze Lilian in midsentence. I turned to Frick. “I said I would go, and I will. But I must take the later flight.”
“As you wish,” he muttered under his breath.
The moment the door clicked shut, hands on hips, Lilian unloaded. “Are you going to jump every time they pull your strings? Why didn’t you tell him ‘No’?”
“I told you there would be phone calls. I also told you that when I had to go to Munich I would return as soon as possible. This will take two days. Three at the most.”
We stood at opposite ends of the couch. I dared not move. Any attempt to embrace would only fan the flames.
“A few days away is not the issue,” she said. “My hackles kick up thinking about whom you’ll be with during that time.”
“The Nazis are not the poison you make them out to be.”
“How could you possibly know? You’re too close to be objective. You don’t see these men for what they are. Take your buddy, Goebbels. His thugs continue to beat innocent Jews in the streets. How can you have anything to do with these people?”
“Lilian, this has nothing to do with the Nazis or party politics. I need to go to Munich to help a friend. Actually, two friends. If Victor Jansen or someone else needed your help, I know you would stop what you were doing and go.”
“My friends are not Nazis. I can assure you, none are like Adolf Hitler,” she said.
“He’s not what you think, Lilian. One day Hitler will speak at a big rally in Berlin. Come with me. See for yourself, how dynamic he is and how important he is for Germany’s future. Then make up your mind about him. Will you do that for me?”
She didn’t answer. I opened my arms hoping she would move toward me. She remained rigid for a beat, and then edged closer. I took a step, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into me; Lilian rested her head on my chest. Neither of us spoke. When our breathing was in sync, I said, “I love you, Lilian. Nothing will ever get between us.”
She looked up. “In one sense I’ve been unfair. I see how much your Wolf means to you. If it is that important to you, I will hear him speak.”
“Just give him a chance.”
She took a step back. “But after I hear him, you have to promise to keep an open mind and listen to what I think. No matter what that may be.” She held out her hand. “Can you do that?”
I pulled her back into me and kissed her long and hard. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”